


Happy Birthday, John

by grimmreaper (willhelmina)



Series: We All Gotta Face Our Demons Sometime (Reaper stories) [8]
Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Past Lives, Reaper McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willhelmina/pseuds/grimmreaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birthdays haven't been happy since 2057.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, John

John stared at the picture in his hand.

A picture he kept hidden away.

Of a woman. Who was dead, buried six feet under and he missed her like a missing limb.

His sister, Samantha. 

Taken right before their senior year of high school, summer of 2038. Last hurrah before college. Their future had been bright then; the both of them applying at colleges, Sam to Brown or Harvard, him to Syracuse.  He made fun of her for choosing science over art, ( _Practically the same thing, Johnny.)_ and her making fun of him for wanting to teach (he wasn't going to tell her with was going to a science teacher).

A teacher? Him?

He had been naive.

Unfortunately, it didn't work out.

They had a blow out right before she left for college, he can't remember what about, probably something petty (or something about their parents) and they stopped speaking.

She went to Olduvai (of course, he didnt find out until ten years later) but he got her back by joining the Marines.

They survived Olduvai, Sam never regaining the use of her legs and she died from complications eleven years later.

He lived two lives with her, one as John Kennex and the start of one William Cooper, a low level tech at the CIA who was almost promoted, had if he not had been shot in the head at close range. John had splitting headaches for six months after that and Sam just teased him about it. Of course, never in malice and she always gave him medicine for him.

( _"'m glad you like seeing me suffer, Sam," He whimpered (it had been a_  manly _one, at least to him_.

_"Oh you know me, Johnny," She giggled.)_

She had been in so much pain by the time of her death that he could only make her comfortable. She gripped his hand so hard it hurt, grinding his bones together. He begged her, begged, to take C24, to live. She refused. She knew it would change her but he disagreed. He knew her like she knew him. It wouldn't.

( _"It will. Like you, I've done bad things and...I haven't felt any guilt for them. I...I'll change and I'll kill and..." She stopped and John imagined the spread, the destruction, the death._

_He stared at her. "I know you, Sam. You're like me. You won't."_

_Tears streaking down her face, she shook her head. "I will. I'm sorry, John. I'm sorry.)_

He slipped into a dark place for a hundred years after that. He picked up the moniker Kirill and spent it killing for money. Killing for greed. Each kill gave him satisfaction and he explored a side of himself he never knew he had.

He slept very little, he only dreamed of Sam, of Olduvai. Of Sarge trying to kill him. It only made him more irritable, more susceptible to killing more. He enjoyed it. More than he should have.

He only stopped when he woke up one day and looked in the mirror and saw someone he didn't know anymore. He had enough blood on his hand to paint the Sistine Chapel thrice over. Who was he? Did he even know anymore?

That night, Kirill died.

He hadn't thought about the name since.

From then on was countless aliases and looks. He mostly stayed on earth, not ready for space travel yet. He only planet jumped when he had to and it was rare. No one was making the connection and he was safe. He was married, divorced, remarried, had kids, divorced. A vicious cycle.

It had been Joanna's fortieth birthday when Captain Christoper Pike recruited him to Starfleet. He didn't lie when he said Jocelyn had taken the world from him. He just didn't mention when that was (nearly thirty-six years prior). But Jim didn't pry and he didn't mention anything.

And as they say, the rest was history. 

John sipped the smooth whiskey he kept for days like this. For when the pressure of immortality was so great that he couldn't function. When he missed his sister so much, he could have cried. Some days, he hated her for what he did to him, making him suffer through his alone. He didn't chose this, he never would have. But...if she hadn't...they would have died in UAC. Another statistic. That was why he stared at her picture; her smile seemed to get him through it. Sam had that way about her.

Of course, it meant taking the whole day off.

Just didn't feel like dealing with the sick and injured, not today of all days, and Chapel and M'Benga certainly could hold their own. They were great doctors, even if he never said it to them. 

He finished the glass, pouring another when the lock on his door is overridden and he was greeted by the face of Captain  ~~Infant~~  James Tiberius Kirk. The look on his face said all he needed; he was pissed but John didn't really care.

"Bones," He calmly stared, "Care to explain why you're not down in Med Bay, where you're supposed to be?"

John laid the picture down. "I'm not really feeling it today, Jim."

"Not really..feeling..it? Are you drunk?"

No. "Getting there."

"Are you kidding right now me, Bones?"

"Not today, Jim. Not today."

Jim glared. "What do you mean not today?"

"Leave it, Jim."

"No. I wanna know why you're not at your post and why you didn't show up for your shift!"

"It's none of your concern, captain!" He slammed the glass down - mindful of his strength, it's gotten him into more trouble than not - and stood up, back to him. 

He should have been paying attention when Jim moved towards him, towards his desk. But he wasn't. Jim grabbed the flipped picture from his desk, glare growing deeper.

"I'm the captain, Bones. It is my concern."

"Jim...don't..." He turned the picture over, staring at it for a few minutes. Few agonizing minutes, mind you. John just shifted his weight back and forth, waiting for him to respond.

"She...looks like you." Jim put it down slowly. "Who was she?"

"My sister." Jim's eyes widened.

"You have a sister?"

"Had a sister."

Jim's face lowered and he finally understood. "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine. Just sucks." Jim pulled him into a hug, one he returned without a second thought.

"If you wanna talk, I'm here."

John smiled. "I know...just...let me wallow for a few more hours then I'll pick up a small shift."

Jim sighed. "Bones...you don't have to."

"It's okay, Jim. I...I probably should have distracted myself today anyway."

Jim nodded, slowly. "Okay. Okay." He pat his shoulder. "I'm sorry, again, Bones."

"Me too."

Jim silently left his room, leaving him standing there. John picked up the picture, staring one last time. He filled his glass and downed it in her honor. He sighed, putting it back in it''s hiding place, safe keeping. She was part of his past, part of his secret. Jim only skimmed the surface.

"Happy birthday, Sammy," He whispered, shutting the drawer tight. He turned on his heel and left, not looking back.

_Happy birthday, John._


End file.
